Stepping Out
by wispykitty
Summary: A sixteen-year-old Schuldich is tired of Crawford's parental guidance, and decides to run away, bringing along 14-year-old Farfarello with him.


Inspired by the song "Stepping Out" by Joe Jackson; while my favourite pairing is BradXSchu, FarfieXSchu takes a very close second! This is the beginning to a FXS series I'll be writing. ;)  
  
Stepping Out  
  
The two boys walked along the highway, hoping a car would come along soon.  
  
"You know, this was a pretty crummy idea. Crawford's gonna be so pissed at us." Sixteen-year-old Schuldich kicked at the rocks in his path, slamming his hands into his pockets. It was starting to get cold out, and he stupidly hadn't thought to bring a coat. They hadn't seen a car for the past hour and a half, and he doubted they would see one anytime soon. "Why did you eve let me talk you into this?"  
  
"Did I have a choice?"  
  
"I guess not. Sorry to drag you into this, it probably won't put you in good graces with Crawford." Schuldich continued walking along the road, feelings of self-loathing welling in his mind. He couldn't even run away right!  
  
"Don't worry about it. It's not like he can do anything to hurt me." Fourteen-year-old Farfarello trailed along behind Schuldich, almost like a puppy. The two boys had only been introduced to each other a month ago, after Farfarello's first year of training had been complete. Schuldich was happy to have someone closer to his age around, Crawford was so bland and boring, and only yelled at him all the time. In Crawford's eyes, Schuldich could do no right. But to Farfarello, Schuldich was the only one who mattered. It was odd, Crawford tried with all his might to control and contain the young Irish boy, but nothing had ever worked. From the first time Schuldich and Farfarello had laid eyes on each other, they were inseparable. Crawford was certain that Schuldich was controlling Farfarello's mind with his powers, but in truth, Farfarello just trusted Schuldich.  
  
"True, but he might get pissed off and keep you locked up all the time, and do who knows what with me. He already hates me. He thinks I'm good for nothing."  
  
"That's not true."  
  
"It is so, he tells me that all the time. Schuldich, you screw up! Why can't you do anything right? Why do I always have to pick up after you? You're not a child; stop acting like one! I get it all the time. You don't know because you haven't been around long enough. It's been that way between us for the past year at least. Nothing I do is good enough."  
  
"But he trusts you with me. And we both know that Crawford doesn't like that. He knows he can't control me, so in letting you do it for him, he must find you useful." Schuldich considered the thought, but was quick to dismiss it.  
  
"No. He only attributes that to my powers. He thinks I control your mind telepathically."  
  
"Well we know differently. Does it really matter what he thinks? We don't need him. As long as we have each other." Farfarello stared up into the sky, as the sun was beginning to set. He couldn't quite understand it himself, but Schuldich did have some special hold over him. Maybe it was the way the redheaded German had treated him like an actual human being on their first meeting; how he had never, in the month they had known each other, hit him, kicked him, or restrained him. He felt like Schuldich trusted him, and respected him. For as long as Farfarello could remember, no one had ever trusted or respected him. Fear and loathing was all he could remember knowing, and this sense of trust and respect really hit him. When he was with Schuldich, it was as though all of his thoughts of his past, his hatred of God and memories of his family just up and left him. It was like they didn't matter, when he and Schuldich spoke.  
  
"Well, seeing as how Crawford is our boss, I think it does matter. I don't want him to think I'm useless and good for nothing except for looking after his psycho. Uh, well you know how he talks about you. Like you're just some animal I have to baby-sit. I don't want to be only that. I want to be more, I want him to trust me, and give me responsibility."  
  
"He does. I'm a responsibility"  
  
"No you're not, you're a friend." Farfarello stopped; the comment had come so unexpected. Schuldich looked back at the Irish boy. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No. Just that you're the first person to refer to me as a friend, in my whole life. I've never been anyone's friend." Schuldich grinned, walking back to Farfarello.  
  
"I didn't take you to be the dramatic type Farfie! Don't you think of us as friends?" Farfarello was unsure of how to respond, he had always looked at Schuldich as a sort of leader figure, someone he could expect to treat him with respect. But he had never thought of him as a friend. Probably because he was so unused to the idea of being friends with anyone.  
  
"Well, I guess we are." With that said, the two boys continued walking down the highway.  
  
"Man, I really wish a damn car would come already. Why did we leave in the first place?"  
  
"Because you were angry at Crawford for punishing you because your room was messy."  
  
"Oh right. That's another thing with him! I'm not a stupid kid, I'm sixteen, I've been through more in my life than most people three times my age! But he still treats me like some kid. Clean your room, do the dishes, vacuum the apartment, do the laundry. Is that all I am to him, some stupid maid? That's all he treats me like. If I don't want to clean my damn room, why should he care? He's not my father, I wish he'd stop acting like he was." Schuldich kicked at the ground, sighing in frustration.  
  
"That's the only good thing about my room. The only way it gets dirty is from me cutting myself. I never have to clean." Farfarello fingered one of the knives strapped to his pants, smiling at its cool blade.  
  
"Yeah but you're also locked up. He shouldn't lock you up. But does he listen to me? No. He never listens to me."  
  
"It's fine, I don't mind really. It is annoying, but nothing I can't handle. You need to stop worrying about me so much."  
  
"But Farfie, you're the only thing I have to worry about. If I don't worry about you, what will I worry about? And who will worry about you?"  
  
"How about you don't worry about anything? Why are you so hung up on worrying about something?" Schuldich didn't answer, instead had his eyes trained on the highway.  
  
"Hey, is that dust up there from a car?" He pointed with his finger, showing Farfarello what he was talking about.  
  
"Why are you dodging my question?"  
  
"Seriously, I think a car is coming!" Schuldich started walking along the road faster, hoping for a car to be coming. Farfarello caught up to him, as they both spied the car in question.  
  
"Are you going to answer me Schu?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it. Just forget about it, okay? Forget I said anything." Schuldich turned away from his companion, trying to infiltrate the mind of whoever was in the car.  
  
"Alright. Whatever you say." Farfarello stared at the approaching car, not following his question any further. Schuldich became slightly worried; whoever was driving that car had put a barrier up around their thoughts, not allowing Schuldich's mind probe.  
  
"Farfie, I think we're in trouble." The two boys stood side by side, as the car pulled to a stop in front of them. The door opened, as the driver got out.  
  
"Get in the car." Farfarello said nothing, quickly settling into the backseat, his hand resting on the cool blade of one of his many knives, finding comfort in it. Schuldich looked over at Crawford, whose eyes were boring a hole through his head. "I said get in the car Schuldich." The German boy pulled open the passenger side door, quickly sliding his body in. He buckled the seat belt, wishing he were in any other car right now. The drive home was long, and no words were spoken. Along the way Schuldich suddenly felt the smaller hand of Farfarello dart up to find his, squeezing it tightly. He linked into Farfie's mind.  
  
Don't worry; don't let him know you're scared. He'll only be harder on you.  
  
I'm not scared.  
  
Yes you are, don't deny it. But it's okay. He can't hurt us. You'll see.  
  
Farfarello's hand disappeared, as Schuldich glanced in the mirror, looking back at the boy in the backseat, his fingers clutching one of his knives. Schuldich returned his gaze to the world outside his window, seeing that they were almost home.  
  
Upon reaching their apartment, Crawford left Schuldich in the living room, instructions not to go anywhere being thrown at him. Schuldich watched as Crawford herded Farfarello out of the room, linking into the younger boy's mind.  
  
Don't let him talk to you like a dog Schuldich. The redhead sat and waited, finally hearing Crawford yell for him. He ran towards the hallway, finding Crawford standing in the doorway of Farfarello's room, straightjacket in one hand, Farfarello facing him with a knife. Crawford threw the jacket at Schuldich.  
  
"Get him straightened out. Then come see me." He breezed past Schuldich, leaving the two boys alone. Farfarello tucked his knife away, walking over to Schuldich. He didn't struggle as the straightjacket was placed on him. Schuldich walked him over to the bed, helping him to lie down. He sat for a moment at Farfarello's bedside, staring down into the face of his only friend.  
  
"Don't let him talk down to you." Farfarello's last words of wisdom for the night were spoken, as he then shut his eye, settling in to sleep. Schuldich watched him for a moment, not wanting to leave. He felt so comfortable around the Irish boy, but he knew he would have to go out and face Crawford in a minute. Before he stood up, he felt a sudden urge, as he leaned over, placing a kiss on Farfarello's lips. The one golden eye flicked open, as Schuldich issued a soft "Goodnight", as he then stood up and left. As he finished locking Farfarello's room up, he stared down the hallway, not wanting to face Crawford, but knowing he had no choice. He only wished that he had held the kiss for longer. 


End file.
